Pitiful Little Girl
by reinbowcat96
Summary: Oneshot. As Tom Marvolo Riddle waits in the Chamber of Secrets for a confrontation with Harry Potter, he considers the little girl that so foolishy placed her trust in a suspicious diary. Very minor implied TomGinny.


So hi... my name's Reily. I am also Reily96 on FFN, but this is my non-Zelda fanfic related account. To christen this non-Zelda account, here's an HP one-shot featuring... um, some sort-of TomGinny, I suppose. I blame Starkid for this, as it never would have crossed my mind if not for A Very Potter Senior Year.

So yeah, here. Have some awkwardness. I have no real opinion on this story, save to say that it's a very unconventional and controversial kind of pairing... and if it offends you, I'd like to apologize in advance. Even I admit it's kind of odd for my tastes, but yeah... I felt compelled to write it. So yeah, if you don't like: I'm sorry, please don't rip it. If you do like it, good for you? If you have no opinion on it... well, you and me both.

So again, take note: **The content of this piece does _not_ reflect the author's actual opinions and views - it's a work of fiction, written for the sake of being written. **

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So close. He was so close. In a matter of hours he would have physical form again… The shade looked at his hands, not quite transparent anymore. Tom Marvolo Riddle grinned. Soon there would be solidity… He would have physical form, and then he could seek himself out and resume reign over the wizarding world! And it was all thanks to that pathetic little girl.

He looked down at the little girl, passed out upon the cold stone floor despite the fact the floor was cold and damp. He crouched down by her, taking in the beautiful sight of her ever paling skin and fading hair. His grin never left, because he was enjoying the sight for more than just the fact that her deterioration gave him life. There were so many fond memories associated with this girl: her confusion as she blacked out time after time and he controlled her, her horror as she realized what she had been doing during said blackouts... and then, of course, her realization of what was happening and how she _hated_ herself.

_All because you put your faith in your best "friend" Tom. _He thought with sadistic glee.

What a naïve little idiot she was! Diaries that wrote back weren't common in the wizarding world; a sensible person would have turned it in to one of the professors immediately. But this little girl felt so isolated and lonely that it never crossed her mind; she was ecstatic to make a new "friend" in the unlikeliest of places; happy to jabber on about how lonely she felt; about how her brothers shunned her and how her beloved Harry Potter (he could feel the bile rise at the back of his throat at the mere thought of the name) didn't even know she existed.

"You foolish brat," he cooed, not that she could hear him. "So desperately alone you put your faith in the first thing that offered a hand to you…" So to speak.

Yet something about the statement was somewhat nostalgic.

So desperately alone… putting faith in the first person that offered a hand.

"_You are a wizard."_

He was just a boy, just barely younger than the girl he had been mocking. For all he knew, the old man could've been lying… he would've been used to it. _But I wasn't the same. I didn't need his help. I did everything myself._ But in the back of his mind, he began to feel uncomfortable with that. He had obtained his own school supplies, prepared for everything himself… but he had liked that someone had at least offered to help, much as he was loathe admit it. He was alone. He had always been alone…

She was alone too. In such a large family, surrounded by only brothers, she had never quite fit in within her own family had she?

Tom frowned. _What is wrong with me? Why am I being so sentimental? I am Lord Voldemort. I am_ Lord Voldemort. _There is no room for sentimentality._

He stood immediately and took a few steps away, getting his mind back to business. Potter would be here soon. His mind needed to be focused, not dwelling on meaningless memories.

"… Harry… Ron…"

The tiny little voice caught him off guard. He looked over his shoulder at the girl. That she had the strength to say anything at all was… impressive. Though he supposed that while she was a Blood Traitor, she was still Pure Blood – made of tougher stuff than filthy little mudbloods. He approached and crouched down again. What a shame that she had to be associated with Blood Traitors. He could see himself in her. She could have been useful.

… Pity.

As he looked down at her, he felt pity. It made him vastly uncomfortable to feel such a thing. So helpless, so trusting… but with such tenacity. Such a strong little girl. Tom's ghostly hand reached out to her, fingertips lightly brushing on her cold skin, moving aside fiery red strands off of her paling, clammy skin.

He could touch now… Thanks to her.

On impulse, he closed in and kissed her – just a light brush of his semi-corporeal lips over her cold, bluing lips. Just as quick as he'd done it, he backed off and stood up. He didn't understand it, but he didn't question it either.

All he could think was that it was such a disappointment; to find such a strong willed child only to know that she could never be of use to him outside of that very moment, as he drained the life out of her. He sighed, _A true, true shame… _

Potter would be there soon.

And Lord Voldemort would rise again.

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As an actual piece I feel that this could actually use more detail in it but... Eh, I really don't think I will. I got what I needed to out. Well, until next time, whenever that may be.


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